Every Night
by Crystal Luna
Summary: And she comes to you at night and she wants you, the hardened pyromaniac.


This is for **Sublime Angel**, who asked me to translate a collection of drabbles and one shots around Pyro and Rogue that I have written in Spanish. I still can't promise you that I will translate Obsesión, but here you have what in Spanish is titled _Cada Noche _ under _Guantes y Mecheros_. Enjoy.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own nothing. 'Nuff said.

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She comes to you every night and you wait for her. She does not walk towards you; it seems she floats like some beautiful vision; white, sexy nightgown that clings to each of her delicious curves. She kneels on the bed in front of you and you get up, those sensual lips widening in a sweet smile.

"Johnny." She whispers almost like a caress.

"My love." You whisper back, the slight tremor in your deep voice showing what you feel for her. A throaty laughter surrounds you, like a blanket enveloping you in its security, helping your soul to feel light, free of all anguish and chasing away all of your despair and anxieties. She's here with you, now. The only thing that matter is her and all her angelical presence.

"Am I your love?" She said that soft, sweet drawl waking up in you all your hidden desires. Not being able to hold yourself anymore, you pull her towards you, your hand around her small waist. And she doesn't protest, her brown, big eyes burning with desire... or dare you say that it is love? You raise your hand and slide it along her smooth cheek, because in that hour, when both are alone, you can touch her, feel the satiny quality of that skin that drive you insane during the day.

"You know that you are." You say, your voice sounding hoarse because of the strong emotions that are wrecking your insides. Then, you lower your head to capture those tempting lips in a kiss, feeling her trembling in your arms, listening to her moan full of pleasure... That is when you loose all sanity, while your hands slowly go down by her side, by her small but shapely hips, finding the hem of her nightgown. You begin to raise it with a sensual laziness, savoring every minute, every second...

"Marie." That is the only time you allow yourself to let go of her lips. Saying her name is the closest feeling to kissing her. And you repeat it, "Marie." Because you feel that all your life hangs on that name, all your being igniting in flames and you try to find her lips to loose yourself once again in her sweet wetness. She was finally in your arms and you certainly didn't give a damn about the right thing. How could this be wrong? As you deepened the kiss, she groaned in your mouth and you grunted in response. And for once you seemed to understand that what you feel for her is not wrong, because it makes you soar to the sky. And you think that the world is not only filled of darkness, that pain wasn't the ultimate feeling. There was also the sublime, the beauty… and love. As you lay on top of her, kissing her, your finger lightly skating all over her naked flesh and making her shiver. You smiled.

Almost reverently, you caress her soft curves, your thumbs brushing over her nipples; you hear her letting out a moan, only goading you to lower your head to leave small trails around her breast with your tongue. Until your mouth reached her nipple, gently sucking on it and you feel her hands on your hair, gripping it with harshness. You are aching all over with the need to cover her naked body.

"God, John." You hear her mumble.

You couldn't deny your hunger anymore and your mouth is hard, demanding. You couldn't seem to get enough of her. She is so soft, so smooth and you'd never felt anything like her, desiring to taste every inch of that glorious skin. Your hands moved down, slowly, relishing on the silky sensation of her skin and your mouth followed the path of your hands, leaving behind a trail of fire. Your hand moved lower until you found what you wanted to touch; your fingers surging through all that soft and curly hair between her thighs. You hear her making a sound, almost purring with delight and you feel her, arching against you demanding more. Her uninhibited response to you made you lose all control. Only then did you rise over her and covered her body with yours.

You looked down at her and she smiled at you, knowing well what she needed to do. Following her instinct, she arched up against you once again; she wrapped her legs around your waist. You groaned at the sudden movement, entering her in one swift thrust. She lifted her lips to yours, her eyes closed and her face marred with a grimace mixed with pleasure and pain.

No, you thought to yourself, this couldn't be wrong. All the overwhelming emotions overriding all sense and you felt that this was heaven, that you had at last found your place in this world, there in her arms as she moved softly under you. And you followed her, establishing a rhythm; she gasped and you dipped your head, resting it on her neck. She moved to meet every of your thrust…

"John?"

You jumped, opening your eyes… and discover that everything was a dream. And there, in front of you, stand the owner of your dreams. You scowl at her; that's the only way you behave in her presence.

"Do you know where is Bobby?"

"How the fuck am I supposed to know." You regret your harsh answer when you see her stepping back as if you have slapped her face. However, you're so stubborn and ornery that you don't do anything to correct it.

She turns, walking towards the door to leave the room. Suddenly she stops. That beautiful face turns to look at you and you see her biting down on her lower lip, thinking, doubting…

"Why do you know my name?"

She almost got you for a second there and you try to cover your surprise, "What name?"

"Marie. You were calling me in your dream."

Your heart stops beating abruptly. No; she can't know. You let out a mocking laughter to hide your uneasiness, "Is that your name?" And you shrug. "That is a very common name."

You're a vile liar. Her brown eyes turn sad; almost as if she wished it to be her name. But just as soon as the fool idea came to your head, you try to drive it away. She is not for you, the hardened and jerk pyromaniac. She is for the Bobbies of this world… because all you do is dream and crave for an impossible.

"Oh!" Her cheeks are taking a red hue; she's ashamed, "I'm sorry."

And this time you see her leave quickly. It's better this way. She's not for you; only in your dreams she's yours. Only in your dreams…


End file.
